


Cantankerous

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [168]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Johnlock Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6281521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>cantankerous: adjective: kan-ˈtaŋ-k(ə-)rəs, kən-: difficult or irritating to deal with</p><p>mid 18th century: of unknown origin; perhaps a blend of Anglo-Irish cant ‘auction’ and rancorous</p><p>from Merriam-Webster-</p><p>It's irritating, but we're not absolutely sure where "cantankerous" comes from. Etymologists think it probably derived from the Middle English word contack (or "contek"), which meant "contention" or "strife." Their idea is that "cantankerous" may have started out as "contackerous" but was later modified as a result of association or confusion with "rancorous" (meaning "spiteful") and "cankerous" (which describes something that spreads corruption of the mind or spirit). Considering that a cantankerous person generally has the spite associated with "contack" and "rancor," and the noxious and sometimes painful effects of a "canker," that theory seems plausible. What we can say with conviction is that "cantankerous" has been used in English since at least the late 1700s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cantankerous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Franny_Robinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Franny_Robinson/gifts).



"Cantankerous? Me?" Sherlock turned his icy blue, furious eyes in John's general direction.

"Yeah. Cantankerous- irritating, difficult? How else would you describe yourself at the moment, genius?" John had crossed his arms, pulled himself up to his full height, and returned his glare. Sherlock imagined what it must have been like to be part of John's unit if you had stepped out of line.

"Damn. That's hot," slipped out of his mouth, and John's ears glowed red before he realized that he had actually given voice to the words.

"Oh...uhm...I didn't mean...I mean...I meant what...damn..."

"What did you mean..Sherlock?" John whispered as he moved closer to the detective, who was now frantically trying to decide between flight, fight or what the hell.

He went with what the hell. "For a moment I saw you as you must have been in Afghanistan: strong, in charge, you never took any crap from anyone, but you tempered it with your empathy and your sense of the absurd. They loved you."

John's mouth opened to speak, but he shut it again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Yeah, they did. I was good at my job, I loved it and I loved them, loved being a part of something bigger than just me. It's one reason I stay here, even when you drive me up the fucking wall. I get to be part of what you do."

"What we do, John, without you, I don't function anymore. I don't even know if I functioned before I met you...you have become essential to the work."

"Just to the work?" John inched closer, and Sherlock could feel John's breath flutter against his neck.

"No. I think you know that, John." Sherlock took a deep breath and took John's hand in his. "I think you've known that for a long time now."

John looked into Sherlock's eyes and nodded. 

Sherlock kissed John's hand and placed it on his chest. "Do you feel that, John? It beats for you now, you got inside my head, and I didn't know what to do...no one else has ever built a home in my head, in my heart before. If I'm cantankerous, cranky, and a bit impossible, it's because that was my last defense against you. Somehow you bulldozed your way in, and none of my tricks had worked...the head in the fridge, destroying your jumpers, the noxious experiments...I was trying to see what it would take for you to leave. I came to realize..."

"Yeah?" John finally managed to find his voice, small as it was.

"That as improbable as it seemed, you actually had feelings for me..."

"Uh-hmm..."

"...feelings strong enough to keep you here, no matter what I threw at you..."

"Yes. God, yes,"

"...the question is..."

"For chrissake, Sherlock, shut up and let me kiss you, already..."

"I think someone is a little cantank--"

John pushed his fingers into Sherlock's curls, and kissed him as perfectly as he could.

"Damn...uhm...can you uhm, do that again...that was...damn..."

"Yeahhh..."

John kissed him once more, then pulled back and looked at Sherlock's absolutely wrecked face.

"Oh. I'm sorry - breathe for me?"

Sherlock shook his head, mute for a moment. 

"Don't be sorry. Please, don't be sorry you did that-"

"No, I'm not." John grinned at him, his hand still on Sherlock's chest, feeling his heartbeat dance madly against his fingers made him breathe in sharply.

"Now what?"

"Hmm. I think we need to see if our table at Angelo's is available? I'm starving, and it's time I started feeding you up. Then, we can come back here and..."

"And...?"

"Whatever you want."

"Everything, John...I want everything with you."

"Damn...does Angelo deliver?"


End file.
